


three hundred and sixty one

by cbstrike



Series: type for permanence [1]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Bittersweet, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28592433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cbstrike/pseuds/cbstrike
Summary: “It’s not too late.” he joked. And she laughs, a guffaw that felt and sounded younger than she was. She covered her mouth immediately, eyeing the baby who wrinkled its face but otherwise remained asleep.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: type for permanence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129028
Comments: 5
Kudos: 46





	three hundred and sixty one

“Do you regret it?” he asked her as he stood next to her, looking over the infant sleeping in his cot. The way she sighed, so thoughtful, he had to ask.

But she smiled at him, in that bright way that still delights him thirty years later. She snaked her arm behind him, looking back at the baby. He wasn’t even sure which one he was. Kenneth, Loren, or Theodore. Too many new infants this year, adding to the already plentiful grand nieces and nephews he’s amassed just off Lucy’s children.

“Sometimes.” Robin admits, gentle hand on the baby’s chest. She looked sad, and he was sorry that she was.

“It’s not too late.” he joked. And she laughs, a guffaw that felt and sounded younger than she was. She covered her mouth immediately, eyeing the baby who wrinkled its face but otherwise remained asleep.

“Don’t do that!” she scolded him mildly, elbowing him for the joke.

But that’s all he could do now, joke, thirty years on. He had been afraid to ask when they were younger, when it could’ve easily been a possibility. Because he never wanted children, not even one half her. But he knew, if she had asked then, he would grant her anything. Everything. Even children.

“I’m sorry we never had children.”

She smiled again, ever kind.

“We didn’t want any.” she reminded him gently.

“You just said—”

“I know,” she sighed. “Don’t mind me, just gabbling.”

He pressed his lips to her temple, her strawberry-blonde hair only slightly streaked with grey. His own hair was pure white now. “No, tell me.”

“Dunno, sometimes I think I would’ve liked to have met them, you know?. See the kind of people they turned out to be. If they looked more like me than you.” she smiled at the last part.

He smiled, amused. He can’t conjure even these hypothetical children, picturing only Robin in a smock, in her workshop, face covered in paint or clay. How he would coax her out for tea, and how they would sit together in their study, talking about their lives.

She would’ve made a great mum, he had no doubt about that. Even to their grand nieces and nephews, he could tell she was their favorite relative. He would’ve been mediocre at best as a father.

He felt her wrap her arms around his midsection, and turned his head down to meet her for a kiss.

“I love you, Cormoran.” she told him. Four words he hears multiple times a day and yet has never lost its potency. “I wouldn’t change a thing about our life.”

He was glad that she said it, glad to have heard it. He didn’t know what kind of father he would’ve been, but from the moment they got together thirty years ago he vowed to himself that he will be the best partner—and husband—and it sounds like he had been. He is, still.

“Let’s head home.”

Robin smiled at him, nodding. “Let’s.”


End file.
